The next day the pretty girl and her handsome husband set off early to visit the shop with the magically beautiful dress. Once again the wicked owner was not there and the shop door was locked. The girl’s heart was filled with sadness. “Alas, will I never get to wear the dress?” she said. As she turned to walk away she noticed a small note taped to the door. It was a phone number. At last a way to contact the wicked shop owner.
The pretty girl reached for her trusty iPhone and called the number. It rang and rang and rang. Just as the girl was about to hang up, the phone was answered. Oh happiness, the pretty girl listened to the shop owner and the reason for the closed shop was explained.
The owner had another shop in the little village of Positano. It was nearby and the pretty girl could find the magically beautiful dress there. Oh joy. At last the dress was within her reach. It was meant to be.
But this is not the end of our tale, because nothing in the magical kingdom of Italia is ever that simple.
As she walked to the new shop the pretty girl passed another dress shop and in the window saw another dress. It was a dress of green. It was long and cosy. The pretty girl thought it would keep her warm on the long winter evenings that were fast approaching, something the magically beautiful dress would not do. She tried on the dress of green. The fit was perfect. Everyone in the shop agreed the fit was perfect and that the pretty girl looked even prettier in the new dress.
The pretty girl was torn. What of the magically beautiful dress? Was it not meant to be? Was it more beautiful and magical than the dress of green?
She decided to do what she always did when this happened – have a glass of wine and a fag and think about it.
To be continued…